


Singing Something Yet Unfound

by Niki



Series: From Pent-up Aching Rivers [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Case Fic, Coming Outs & Revelations, Community: hc_bingo, Creature Fic, Dubious Consent, F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Serial Killers, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1276603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There was no way he was getting out of this without exposing his secret, or losing his job and freedom if he gave into the temptation to shoot an unarmed man. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing Something Yet Unfound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MerNeith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerNeith/gifts).



> Warning: Case involving dub-con/non-con. The rapes are not explicit but discussed during case work.
> 
> Trope Bingo Square: Power dynamics  
> H/C Bingo: Confession in a desperate situation  
> Super Bingo: Kiss to Save the Day

Tony had never had sex with a 'bus before. It was interesting – it was definitely different than with a human, them both having more appetite and stamina when it came to sex. There was also the fact he cared for Emma more than any of his short flings. Still, they were more friends with benefits than a relationship, which was all either of them could handle. 

Emma didn't talk about Amanda much, but Tony knew what they had couldn't compare to bonded sex. Still, it's what they had, and it's what kept them both fed and in health, so as long as it worked, he was content.

Of course, it was dangerous as hell. Emma was a witness in a case, and if their relationship ever came to light it would jeopardise the whole case against Amanda's husband. That's why they never went anywhere together, only met in each other's apartments, and Tony never mentioned her name on the phone.

If his co-workers noticed him coming to work with cat hair on his clothes (despite rigorous rolling with the tape roller, the little beast had it in for him) sometimes, no one had commented on it yet. 

He knew Ziva at least had to have noticed, which meant the devious ninja was saving the information to use against him when he least expected. Gibbs must have, too, but it's not like he'd care about Tony's dating habits as long as he always came to work even when the call came during the weekend or in the middle of the night. 

Tony blinked and frowned when he saw the time. Damn, the case looked like an all-nighter, missing people often were, and Gibbs showed no signs of letting them go at any point soon. He dug up his phone, eyes still on the computer screen, scrolling through endless lists of phone calls and bank records even while hitting a speed dial.

“Hey, something came up at work,” he said when she picked up. “I'll be a while. Let yourself in and watch a movie or something. There's some pizza left from the other night. Or I can drop by whenever I get a chance.”

“I'm already on my way, so I think I'll do that. I was looking forward to pizza and bad movies, so I think I'll go ahead. What do I need you for?”

“Heartless wench. Enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I will, I might even check out your porn collection, DiNozzo.”

“You would do that when I'm not home. They're hidden behind the Natural Geographic documentaries on the bottom row.”

“Of course you have a porn collection. I was just kidding.”

“Hey, I'm a red-blooded male.”

“Who never lacks for interested company, so what do you need porn for?”

“I have an image to uphold.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, my boss is looking at me with homicidal intent, so I'm going to hang up now. Don't trash the place. No wild orgies – at least without me.”

“I'll be waiting in your bed if you get to come home at any point tonight.”

“I'll just go solve this case, shall I?”

“Good luck.”

“Good incentive, at least.”

He was grinning when he ended the call, even with Gibbs staring at him with a murderous glare.

“If you're quite finished with your obviously personal call...”

“Had to cancel a date,” Tony said, shrugging, before turning his attention back to the bank records. Come on, there had to be an inconsistency somewhere that would tell them where this woman was.

“A date? With someone with a key to your apartment. Why, Tony, that sounds perilously close to commitment.”

He glared at Ziva. 

“This would be the cat lady, then,” Probie joined in and Tony extended his glare to include him. 

“And not one date story, no bragging... I wonder what is wrong with her?” Ziva said, with a devious little smile.

“Ugly or old?” McGee suggested. “Or maybe she really is a cat lady with a house full of them.”

He opened his mouth to retort when Gibbs cleared his throat threateningly. Right. Missing marine. 

\- - -

Private First Class Nadine Carruthers had been missing for three days when her body turned up on a side of the road, hardly covered at all, as if just thrown from a passing vehicle. 

She was dressed in her own clothes, with a wallet and phone (switched off, the battery had run out) still in the pockets of her jacket. Ducky found out she had been dressed post-mortem, but he could find no other obvious signs of murder.

“On the surface it seems as she has died of natural causes – a heart failure.”

“But?” Gibbs asked when it came obvious he wasn't going to continue on his own.

“But this poor woman has been starved to death.”

“In three days?” Gibbs asked, frowning.

“Must be longer than that. Or then she suffered from serious untreated anaemia. There are no signs of repeated vomiting or anything that would explain the rapid pace of her decline otherwise. Are there mentions of an eating disorder in her medical file?”

“No, nothing,” Tony said, sharing a look with Ziva. Synchronicity again? A 'bus could starve someone to death in three days. 

“Then the doctor at her base should be brought to charges on malpractice and negligence. This poor girl did not get into this shape over a weekend.”

“Anything else, Duck? Signs of restraints, drugs?”

“No signs of restraining on her skin, no signs of struggle, no defensive wounds. Abigail has the samples for drug tests.”

And if those were clean, Tony's day was going to turn infinitely worse.

\- - -

While waiting on those tests Ziva and Tony went through the reports of other unsolved homicides of young women they had requested among any missing person files they had gone through while searching for their missing marine. 

Now they widened the search to solved cases as well, and narrowed the homicide list by the cause of death: organ failure due to starvation, dehydration, or exertion.

They found 15 deaths within the last three months that fit their brief.

“I could have been one of them,” Ziva said, quietly. “Do you think it is... him?”

“What name did he give you?”

“It does not matter, he does not exist.”

“You checked, huh.”

“You knew I would. Why else would you not have asked for it?”

She had a point. That, and he'd known a hunter wouldn't use his real name. 

“You did not research him in advance?” he asked, partly as a joke.

“It... did not occur to me.” She frowned. “Did he control me somehow from the beginning?”

“Probably. We're just really, really charming by nature. I don't always know if it's something, you know, supernatural?”

“You do not affect me so.”

“Well, my little assassin, that's just because I've never tried to seduce you. Not for real.”

“Never do, then.”

“I'm wounded.”

“How could I ever trust my mind with you?”

“Ziva! I would never!”

“I know. I only meant... how could I know if I really wanted it or if I was merely... charred by you.”

“I think you mean 'charmed'.”

\- - -

“So are you saying we have a serial killer in our hands?” Gibbs asked when presented with their findings.

“And one that can seemingly starve his victims to death during a very short period of time,” Tony said, with a self-deprecating shrug. He wouldn't believe him, really.

“Half of these deaths were ruled accidental,” McGee said, looking up from the files. “Lost in the woods, sick at home alone...”

“Some of those were ruled accidental on very little research. Those flagged as homicide feature port-mortem dressing and relocation of the body. And they have also been sexually active during their last days. I checked with Ducky – Carruthers has significant amounts of vaginal tearing.”

“Semen?” Gibbs asked.

“Abby has it.”

“The drug test?”

“Negative.”

“So our killer kidnaps these women without anyone noticing, keeps them for three days to a week, rapes them in a way that leaves no defensive wounds or signs of restraining on their body, or any traces of drugs, then they die of... of exhaustion and he dumps the bodies.”

“That about sums it up.”

“Couldn't the sex be consensual?” McGee asked. 

“And good enough that all these women forgot to go to work or call their families for three days or longer?” 

“Maybe not.”

“Anything connecting these women?”

“Young, attractive, single, actively dating, live alone. Ages from 18 to 33.”

“Sounds like a dating add,” Tony pointed out, then frowned. “Are they listed on any dating sites?”

“Six of them are active, three never checked their profiles according to the logs,” McGee reported after checking (and maybe hacking into) some sites. 

“The friends and families of a few more said they frequented known lift bars,” Ziva said, and after a few blinks Tony corrected: “Pick up, Ziva. Pick up bars.”

“Okay, see if there's anything to be found on the profiles of those six, McGee. DiNozzo, David, canvas some of those bars, maybe someone will recognise more of those photos.”

“On it, Boss.”

\- - -

“It is him, is it not? Or someone like him,” Ziva said the moment they were in the car, their earlier theories now even more credible.

“It would fit the facts. Damn it,” Tony said, punching the wheel. “I knew I should have done something about him.”

“What could you do? It is not like we could have arrested him.”

“And it's not like he'd stay behind bars for long.”

“How do you mean?”

“He could charm his way out of Alcatraz.”

“It is a museum, I think they tend to let people out.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes. It is that strong?”

“He got you, didn't he?”

\- - -

“There's another woman, missing after she left for a date yesterday,” Gibbs greeted them with when they returned. Tony groaned inside. He had hoped to get home tonight. Well, to Emma's, or home with her. 

It had been well over a week since they'd met and the people in the bar had looked really, really good to him. He had even sensed a couple having sex in a bathroom and had had to restrain himself from stopping to ingest some stray energy lingering around them. He was starving, and it was starting to show. It didn't help the work had been demanding for the same amount of time.

“What do we know?” he asked, no energy to be anything but professional and to the point.

“Linda Mercer, 24, medical student. Missed her parents' anniversary dinner. As it happens, dad is a high-ranking officer, so she was declared missing right away, and my program flagged the file. It fits the general criteria,” McGee replied. 

“Do we know who she was meeting and where?”

“A Daniel Webster, in what she described as 'a nice restaurant'.”

“And what are the chances that's his real name?”

“There must be some real Daniel Websters,” McGee said.

“I am missing something,” Ziva said, confused by the reference.

“Aren't we all,” Gibbs said, and they got to work.

\- - -

After yet another sleepless night, a hunt through more bars and restaurants, and the team had a tentative description of a “dark-haired, slim-ish, not that tall, clean-shaven, not that good-looking, but he had something, you know, something captivating in him” man who may or may not have been seen with at least five of the dead women, and who might or might not be Linda's date. 

The description more or less fit Ziva's incubus as well. It would just be Tony's luck for it to be the same hunter he once let go.

He looked at his face in the men's room mirror and wanted to groan. It had been years since he'd gone this long without. The plague had taken a toll in more than one sense. Luckily a hospital is also a very good place to pick up random strangers for quick, meaningless sex, so as soon as he could stand up he had rectified that particular problem, but he had still gone a few weeks without. 

He just hoped Emma was getting some, somewhere. He was reasonably sure she was not suicidal anymore. Maybe she would be up for a lunch hour quickie? Not that they got lunch hours but a guy could dream. 

He blinked as Ziva's face appeared behind his in the mirror. “I think you got the wrong door,” he said. “Again.”

“You have not... fed,” she said.

“No, we haven't exactly had time for that. And thanks for checking the stalls were empty before talking about that, by the way.”

“I did,” she said. “Are you able to function in the field?”

“I have to be. What's the other option? I'm not sick, Ducky would notice right away.” 

“He would notice you resemble our victims. I never realised how close your... symptoms are, but you look like a victim of starvation. You are acting like one, too. You are getting slower.”

“I know, and we need to catch this guy soon while I can still shoot straight.”

“I could...” Tony had never seen her as hesitant as she was now, and was that blush on her face? Surely not. Wait, what was she...

“No.”

“If you were starving I would give you my last chocolate bar. If you needed blood I would donate. Why not this? It is only survival.”

“What, a quickie in a bathroom stall? Ziva... First of all, no, second of all, no, third, it wouldn't be enough. It would be like... like offering one piece of chocolate to a starving man. To get anything more out of a short encounter like that, I'd have to...”

“Do what he does,” she realised. 

“And I will never cross that line. Not even if I waste away.”

\- - -

They caught a break only a few hours later, when a woman they interviewed at a club told them her neighbour resembled the man described, always had dates at home, engaged in some fairly marathon sex sessions with them, and yeah, she may have seen one or two of the missing women with him. 

It sounded too good to be true, but there was a missing woman who they might still have time to save, so the team grabbed their guns and headed for the address. 

The apartment was, according to the neighbour, a large studio. Less hiding places made the whole thing that much easier. A quick door to door gave them a few more witnesses to place the missing woman in the apartment, which was enough for a probable cause.

Gibbs knocked on the door. “NCIS!”

There was no reply, so they broke in with a few well-placed kicks next to the lock. Very dramatic, Tony thought, bursting in with his gun drawn. 

The only occupants of the room were in a queen-sized bed by the opposite wall. The dark-haired man got up, and wrapped a sheet around himself, leaving a confused-looking Linda Mercer behind him. 

“You,” the incubus greeted them. “And charming Miss David.” He winked at her.

“Special Agent David,” she corrected. 

“Daniel Webster-dash-Tom Walker-dash J. Stone, you are under arrest for kidnapping and murder. Miss, step away from him.”

“I think not,” Webster/Walker/Stone said, turning to look at the naked woman in his bed and smiling.

Tony smiled as well, and holstered his gun. “I thought we went through this already,” he said. 

“Tony has a bigger dick than he,” Ziva said, as if in explanation to the others and Tony felt like face-palming.

“That's what you took away from that discussion?” He turned back towards the pair, training his eyes on the woman. “Come here, sweetheart.”

She wavered, looking at the incubus, then at Tony. 

“It's all right. Come to me,” he said, keeping his voice gentle, beguiling, directing all of his not-inconsiderable amount of charm on her. 

She looked at Webster again, then got up to his great disgruntlement, and walked through the room until she reached Tony. He reached out with his hand, and she took it, stepping close to his body. He pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, bella.”

He then directed her towards the door and McGee. 

“I want to stay with you,” she said, looking a little dazed. 

He might have over-done the charm a bit. “I know, bella. I'm sorry.” He pushed her towards McGee, who was removing his coat to wrap around her. 

“I told you to leave my city, hunter,” he told Webster.

“'Hunter', huh. Aren't we the traditionalist.”

“I prefer 'civilised'.”

“So what are you going to do about it? You can't claim they were all yours,” he was openly mocking now. Tony was cursing him to blue hell in his head, knowing there was no way he was getting out of this without exposing his secret, or losing his job and freedom, if he gave into the temptation to shoot an unarmed man. 

“You have killed in my territory, endangering our secret. The law is clear.”

“And you as the... what do you call yourself, Traditionalist? Alpha? King? Prince? Top dog?”

He ignored the barbs. He refused to claim any sort of a title even if his blood entitled him to it. He was his father's son. That made him stronger than any stray hunter. At least in normal conditions. Now, in his weakened state...

“You know I can't let you go, hunter.”

“Who's going to stop me? You? You are the law, all you can do is lock me up.” His smirk said how long he suspected his incarceration would last. “And you are hardly in a condition to stop me. Your human harem not enough to satisfy your needs any longer?”

Well, it was all over and the bridges and boats were aflame behind him, so why not go all in. He laughed. 

“You never found your Chosen, did you.”

“Never even looked for one. I don't need a mystical mate to curb my appetite.”

“Ah, but you see, that's not what they do. Our needs don't diminish. How does it work, then? They are human, they can't give us any more sex than anyone else.”

He turned, and stalked to where Gibbs was standing, gun in his hand looking forgotten as it was pointed towards the floor while he listened to the exchange with a frown. His eyes rose to meet Tony's as he came to a stop in front of him.

“I'm very sorry about this, Boss,” he said sincerely, and leaned in for a kiss. 

And holy hell if he had known it was going to feel like this! It was like _sex_ , the electricity he had only ever experienced with Emma, but tenfold, like live wire connecting their lips to his crotch and his mark and he was on fire. Like touching Gibbs for the first time during that tackle, but better, more intimate, and when Gibbs's mouth opened to accept his tongue it was, it was, he could _feel_ the energy flowing between them, around them, and he knew any kiss with anyone else would feel wrong after this, would be a pale imitation, and how did Emma and his father do it? Live without it? 

He pulled back, even if every part of him wanted to stay in that kiss forever. He met the shocked blue eyes of his boss and forced himself to turn away. 

He knew he'd look different if he could see himself in a mirror – the bags under his eyes would be gone, his skin would be smoother, the wrinkles less apparent. He'd seen the transformation before but never in such a short time, from such a simple action. He'd known, but he hadn't _known_ the effect a Chosen could have on a 'bus. He'd set out to show Webster but he had shown himself as well.

“You see, we are the biological proof of quality over quantity,” he went on, ignoring the surprise, the elation, the insistent arousal. “I can get more from him in one kiss than you'd get from a weekend with Linda.”

He took a step closer. “So yes. I am going to stop you.”

“How?” the hunter asked, but this time there was fear in his eyes. 

And that was the question, really. 

“What are you going to do?” Ziva asked. 

“Well, technically, by our laws, I have the right to do to him what he did to those women.”

“But you are not going to.”

“No, I'm not going to rape him to death, for fuck's sake. But he'll seduce his way out of any prison.”

“I am at your mercy,” the hunter said, and this time there was no mockery on his voice. “You have, as the lady states, the bigger dick.”

“And doesn't that fill me with joy,” he muttered. 

He half expected Gibbs to join in on the discussion but he seemed content to listen and not show the enemy that he had no idea what was going on. McGee had left the apartment with the victim, so he had hopefully missed most of it. 

Tony very deliberately turned his back on the criminal and faced his team mates. “Any ideas?”

“I shoot him, we say it was self-defence,” Ziva suggested, and she probably was sincere, too. 

“I don't even pretend to know what's going on,” Gibbs said. “But this seems to be your show for now, DiNozzo.”

How long did he need to give Webster? Wasn't the man desperate enough? Come on, come on... And there it was. Gibbs and Ziva both raised their guns again to point at Webster who'd dashed towards Tony, intending to take him from behind – kill him, or use him as a hostage, didn't matter, because as soon as he felt him at his back Tony acted. 

He let his whole body go limp, the dead weight of it slipping easily off the other man's grip, and as the hunter was visible behind him, he heard two guns go off almost simultaneously. He'd think it an echo if he didn't see them both fire at the same time. 

He turned slowly and checked Webster's pulse, even though he had two rapidly filling holes in his head. Had he really thought it would work? Or was it suicide by cop? Well, from him it had been premeditated murder. 

“Self-defence,” Ziva said, obviously realising what Tony had done. 

He feared meeting Gibbs's eyes. His boss would also know what he'd done. And let's not even get started with the whole not-human thing.

Ziva came to check on the corpse, too, then turned to gape at Tony. “ _Gibbs_ is your Chosen?”

\- - -

“My house,” Gibbs said as they left the apartment. “I think we need to talk before writing our reports.”

“Good. I wouldn't even know what to say in mine,” McGee said, staring at Tony.

“A bit unethical,” Tony noted. “But I wouldn't mind keeping the incubus angle on the down low.”

More gaping. Was that the first time the term came up? 

“And, no, before you ask, I am not a sex demon.”

\- - -

Tony had run out of clothes in his go bag during the case, so Gibbs lent him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt so he could bag his. The blood spatter in his clothing would serve as evidence that Webster had held him as a hostage, forcing the others to shoot. Righteous shooting, case closed. 

Hopefully. But a lot of that depended on what his team wrote in their reports. 

“Well, Webster did confess to the murders, so there is that. Too bad we couldn't ask him which all were his but he did say 'them', so it's more than Linda.”

“You'd met him before, you and Ziva.”

“Yes. I was almost a victim myself,” Ziva admitted reluctantly.

“And this didn't come up during the investigation?”

“We couldn't be sure,” Tony said. “We never reported it, and I'd never witnessed him kill before so I... Yeah, maybe I should have done something, all those women wouldn't be dead. Shit! I knew I shouldn't have let him go.”

“He had not broken a law. Not ours, and not yours,” Ziva reminded him, and damn but the “yours” hurt. 

“They're both 'my laws',” he said quietly. “I am a law enforcement officer, not a... well, not just an incubus. Tribal politics can't take precedence.”

“Tribe, really?” Ziva asked.

“Figure of speech. Hangover from the old days. Like Webster said, I'm a bit of a traditionalist. Blame dad.”

“Your father is a sex demon...” McGee said, slowly.

“ _Not_ a demon, Probie.”

“Not a human, either,” Ziva echoed her earlier words. 

“Not as such, no,” he repeated his answer, and sat heavily down on a chair. “Okay, short version. I'm an incubus, we need sex to live, we don't go around raping or killing people, it's all very mutual and consensual. Webster was a criminal more than an incubus, he _did_ go around raping and killing people by draining their energy during sex. Consensuality of which is debatable.”

“It was consensual,” Ziva repeated.

“Like Linda? She didn't really have an option of saying no when I called her to me. She _couldn't_ say no to me.”

“He wasn't as strong as you.” At least she'd not used the dick metaphor this time. Tony felt a small smile tucking on his lips at the memory. 

“Well, no. Strong enough to get you, though.”

“You did not need to... charm me to get away from him?” Ziva said, frowning.

“No, I didn't. You're stronger than Linda Mercer so seeing me, being reminded of who you are was enough to snap you out of it.”

“What, exactly, is a Chosen?” Gibbs asked suddenly, and yeah, he probably had a vested interest in all this.

“Can we, uhh, discuss that in private?”

Ziva was smirking. “But I would very much like to hear this,” she said, gleefully. 

“I'm not sure I would,” McGee said, his eyes darting between Tony and Gibbs, obviously thinking about the kiss.

“Later,” Gibbs decided, holding Tony's gaze. “For now, the reports.”

They went through what had happened, from locating the apartment, to finding their missing woman who had been... extracted from the murderer, who had then taken Tony as a hostage and been shot to death.

“This does not give a very flattering picture of you, Tony,” Ziva said. 

“Still better than the truth,” Tony muttered.

“Wait, the truth? What did happen?” McGee asked, and Ziva looked at him pityingly. 

Of course, she didn't look at Tony expecting him to be incompetent any more. Surprisingly, it was Gibbs who answered.

“Tony set him up, knowing we couldn't bring him in the traditional way.” 

Now the Probie looked wary. Was it the cold-blooded murder bit, or the Tony-can-be-devious bit? Or the fact Gibbs had called him “Tony” instead of “DiNozzo” in the first place?

“Let's get back to the office, and write this down,” Gibbs said. 

Then, when the other two agents had headed out, he turned to Tony. “We are not done yet.”

“Come by after?” Tony suggested. 

“Come back here,” Gibbs decided. “I have a couple of steaks.”

Tony took the offer of food as a good sign, and smiled on his way out.

\- - -

The late hour made sure there weren't too many people to note Tony's unusual lack of style – not that the other members of the team were much better in the sartorial elegance of their back-up clothing. 

They engaged in a little creative writing exercise to make sure their reports were varying enough to appear real and not agreed upon. Tony even noticed the others emphasised his role in getting the victim safely out of harm's way and how that put him into the vicinity of the kidnapper so that he didn't come out looking completely incompetent. 

He appreciated it, mostly because it meant none of them – not even McGee – were going to hold what happened against him. Well, the pre-meditated murder bit at least. The not-human jury was still out, and Tony feared how that would affect the way others worked with him in the future. 

Also, having his team know something Abby and Ducky didn't? He wasn't sure if Tim was up to the challenge of keeping it from them. Ziva had already shown her skills with other people's secrets, and Gibbs was unreadable on a good day but could he trust Tim not to make unwise sarcastic comments on the subject?

Not that he thought it would be worse for Ducky and Abby to know than the rest, but the more people knew, the more dangerous it got. Every 'bus grew up knowing secrecy was the key to their existence. No one wanted to end up as a slave or a tool because of what they could do. Or a science project. Or executed as a witch or a demon.

It was widely accepted among the tribe that Mata Hari had been one of them, but then, that was said of any _femme fatale_ in history. Rasputin was said to be one too. Neither had had very appealing ends. It was also rumoured many succubi had ended up in a harem back in the day, and doubtless many a known courtesan had been a 'bus. 

Incubi would find it easier to get the amount of sex they needed – unbonded succubi would have always been suspect in a western context... and this wasn't really relevant to what he had been thinking about. Did thinking about Ducky channel his habit to ramble?

But Tony knew he had really allowed his mind to wander to keep his thoughts off the inevitable meeting with Gibbs after they left the office. Tonight might be the night he lost everything. If Gibbs couldn't accept what he was, couldn't accept _him_... Well, he'd told Emma losing one's Chosen didn't need to mean losing your life. 

He could survive losing Gibbs. He could. 

\- - -

They were silent while Gibbs prepared the steaks in the fireplace in the living room. Tony sat on the couch, slowly sipping beer. He had decided to let Gibbs start the conversation, knowing full well this might mean they'd never have it.

But it's not like he knew how to even start.

Finally Gibbs sat down next to him and they dug in. Tony could see him shooting glances at him from the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat.

“So,” he said, not looking at Gibbs.

“So. Incubus. Talk.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Anything, hell, I don't know. What the hell was that in Webster's apartment?”

“Which part? The power play with the hunter? Or the kiss?”

“The latter.”

Damn, if the man couldn't even refer to it as a kiss...

“Incubi are born with a... a destined mate, a person they are somehow mystically tied to. This is the only person they can procreate with, if the sexes are compatible. The Chosen are always humans, so any 'bus has a human and a non-human parent but all the kids are either succubi or incubi. In puberty we develop... tattoo-like markings on our hip which tells us the gender of our Chosen.”

“The tattoos,” Gibbs said, quietly, and Tony realised his quick mind had jumped to all the right conclusions.

“I got mine when I was twelve. I've been sexually active since I was 13. I've needed to have sex every few days since then. I could go without longer if I did what Webster did, he fed directly from his partners, even up to death. I never have and never will. If I... if we... If I was bonded, I think I'd need less to survive.”

“Bonded.”

“Yes.”

“And the tattoos...”

“It's not a tattoo, as such. It's called a mark when still on a 'bus. During bonding rituals the mark leaves our bodies. It's called a brand on a Chosen.”

“'Branding' sounds like cattle,” Gibbs said, and Tony flinched. 

“It's a commitment,” he said, quietly. “It can only ever be achieved if the decision is mutual. The, uhh, ritual kinda ensures that.”

“Couldn't they be... compelled?”

Tony's smile was sad. “The Chosen are immune. They can't be compelled or charmed. Precisely for that reason.”

“And I'm your Chosen.”

He hadn't expected Gibbs to ever refer to it as directly. The mere word on his lips made Tony's insides hurt.

“Yes,” he whispered.

The other man didn't go on and he knew he had to. “I was born waiting for you.” He swallowed. “And after three decades of waiting for you... you didn't want me.”

He kept his eyes trained at the wall, not seeing the wood, only a certain meeting almost a decade ago.

“I may not be a sex demon, or a sex vampire, as we are sometimes called, but I am to some extent a... conduit of sexual energy. I can cause it, I can feel it, I am drawn to it and I can use it to draw others to me. I can feel when someone is having sex within a certain radius from myself, I can sense when someone is attracted to me. I can tell what I need to do to make someone attracted to me – although I don't know how much that is an acquired skill and how much of it is innate. And I know when someone isn't attracted to me. At all.”

His voice was probably as bleak as his mind. “I knew you... liked me. Wanted me to work with you, but... Sometimes I thought we could be friends. Sometimes – most times – you didn't even give me that, but I could live with that as long as I had you in my life, I could see you, I could sense you, I could be around you. It isn't ideal, but it's hell of a lot more than I had before, so I took it.”

It had to be too much for the other man, and Tony would lose even his presence in his life and it hurt so much he felt he couldn't breathe.

“All this because of some mystical bond,” Gibbs said, finally. “No... love.”

“Of course I love you, what do you think the bond is about? I've waited for you literally my whole life, and yes, maybe the initial pull is physical but how could I not love you? Every single person I've been with ever since I met you has been a replacement for what – who – I really want – not just need, want – and they will continue being so until I die.”

He sensed something strong and dark from Gibbs then, something other than his usual neutrality towards him but nothing like the casual desire he felt for his random redheads. 

“I don't know what or who makes these calls. But the Chosen are regular humans. The pull is... one-sided.”

“It wasn't for Emma Dempsey and Amanda Kemp.”

Of course Gibbs went there. 

“It can be like that. Their bond was... more intense than anything I've heard about. Or maybe it was just love at first sight for Amanda, who knows? Maybe she had been looking for a way out from her marriage.”

He felt bad, like he was diminishing the memory of Emma's Chosen, and went on. “Or maybe I'm just the the only 'bus with a malfunctioning bond.”

“And you just... gave up.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Tony asked indignantly, turning to glare at Gibbs. “Seduce you? You were the one person I wasn't supposed to need to.”

Now it was Gibbs' turn to look away. His next words made Tony frown in confusion. “I am very good at denial.”

“What?” He watched as Gibbs got up from the sofa and started pacing.

“I'm so damn good at denial I can even hide the truth from myself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw your tattoo once,” Gibbs said, a seeming non sequitur. “In the decon showers after you opened the plague letter. I thought nothing of it at the time. Then, when the tattoos came up with the Kemp case... I recognised the style. And I realised you knew about them because you had one yourself and...” Tony could only stare at Gibbs at his uncharacteristic long speech, and then the other man said, in a different voice, as if only realising the truth now: “I was jealous. I was _jealous_.”

Tony felt physically faint. Was this really happening? 

“And I didn't recognise it, not until... that kiss. You were there, you _felt_ that.”

Tony didn't know if that was a question or a statement but he nodded. “I thought it was just me.”

“I thought you said you could sense these things.”

Tony sat up, opened his mind, and... and it was there. Finally, after all these years, it was _there_ – the familiar burning sensation of sexual desire, directed at himself, and was it so sweet because it was so unexpected or did it really feel different because it was _Gibbs_?

He got up as well, walking slowly to Gibbs, feeling like he was in a dream.

“So... all I needed to do was kiss you? Even back then?”

“Maybe,” Gibbs said, and he was smiling slightly, looking younger and happier than Tony had ever seen him, except maybe when they met. The other man had looked so different then, lighter, than he had been at any point when they'd worked together. “Maybe not. I didn't know you then.”

“And now that you do?” Tony asked, apprehension and hopefulness both evident in his voice and face.

“Now I don't think the pull is one-sided.”

Tony kissed him then, it would have taken a stronger man than he to resist, and Gibbs leaned into the kiss unlike before, and... it was still all there. It was still like sex, and their mouths were open, and their tongues were meeting, and Gibbs was more of an equal participant in it all this time and it was even _better_.

They separated reluctantly, Tony not willing to go any further until they had talked more. For him this was it, this was forever, but if Gibbs had any doubts... he couldn't accept anything less, but it would kill him to walk away now. 

“What does bonding mean?” Gib... Jethro asked after they had sat back down on the sofa. They sat much closer now, their sides touching, holding hands.

“With the completion of the rituals the bonding mark is transferred and it apparently comes with some supernatural...ity. We can't have kids, for obvious reasons, but... Emma said they could feel each other with Amanda, that she felt her death.”

“No inhuman appetite or stamina?”

“No, sorry.”

“I think I'll survive,” Jethro said dryly, but the fire was still there in his eyes so Tony thought he'd be fine with your basic human libido. 

“And what to these rituals entail?”

“The other word for them is claiming.” 

“You need to fuck me,” Gibbs translated, and Tony grinned.

“If by 'fucking' you mean penetration, no. There is so much more to sex than penetration, and so much more to claiming than sex. You could fuck me,” he said, shrugging. “Although I think I'd have to be on top.”

He moved until he was sitting on Jethro's lap, knees on either side of his thighs. He was relieved when Jethro placed his hands on his hips. He raised his own to cup Jethro's face, and rested his forehead against his, his eyes closing on their own volition.

“I was born to be yours. I have always been and will always be yours. And until you can say that, until you can _feel_ that, there is no bond.”

Jethro pulled back and he opened his eyes to meet his troubled glance. “I can't say that,” he said, apologetically. “I won't be able to say that.”

Tony felt the rejection as a physical blow, and started to get up. Jethro wouldn't let him go.

“I couldn't... cheapen my past relationships like that. My girls...”

Oh. Of course. “Your past can belong to your girls,” Tony said, immediately. “All I need is your future.”

The other man didn't say a word so he went on. 

“This is it for me, Jethro. I've had all my life to get used to that. I've had years to make my peace with the fact it's you. I don't need your answer tonight. You don't need to commit to anything until you're comfortable with it. Just knowing you're thinking about it, that you're open to the possibility, is enough for now. Even if you never want to perform the rituals, I am still going to be yours for the rest of your life, I'm still going to want to be with you, for as long as you want me around. We can even have a full relationship, if that's what you want.”

“Would that be enough for you?”

“Anything you want to give me is enough for me. Working with you, being able to come to your house after work, feeling you not only tolerated but actually enjoyed having me around occasionally has been enough for me for years.”

“Has it? Really?”

“For certain values of enough. Doesn't mean I haven't wanted more. But I could live with it and not resent you for not giving me more.”

“What's my timetable?” 

“What?”

“How long can you be without...”

Oh. 

“Week, two, but I don't want to pressure you into anything because of my biology!”

“I don't want you to sleep with anyone else.” The words were said matter-of-factly, but the edge of possessiveness in them thrilled Tony. He sensed the same strong darkness as before, and... oh. Jealousy tinged with possessiveness. The strength of if made him shudder. 

“So I won't.” He'd have to call Emma, though, make sure she was okay. 

At least until Jethro made up his mind. If he decided this – Tony – wasn't what he wanted... well, he was a stop-gap for Em. Maybe she could be the same for him. It felt wrong to be thinking about it in Jethro's arms.

It was like the other man could read him already. 

“Than means no more cat hair,” he said, and of course he had noticed that. 

“I can't promise that,” Tony said unthinkingly, and the hands that had been resting on his hips clamped down like a vice. “I mean she's a friend, first and foremost.”

He raised his eyebrow, waiting for the other man to cross the possessiveness boundary and deny him the right to see his friends, in which case he would... what would he do? What _wouldn't_ he do for this man? Suddenly afraid, he wished Jethro didn't give him cause to ever consider that.

“Just a friend?”

“The sex was mostly to keep her alive.”

Jethro got up so fast Tony almost ended up on the floor and was saved only by his fast reflexes. He glared at the other man.

“Emma Dempsey?” Jethro demanded. Or rather, Gibbs did, because this was his boss, not his potential lover. And of course Gibbs would realise what – who – that had to mean. “Have you any idea what you are risking?”

“Yes,” Tony replied, calmly. “But there are situations where I _will_ be an incubus first and an agent second. She was dying. She is my sister.”

“Your _sister_?”

“My tribe, my blood, my family. In a metaphorical sense,” he hastened to explain. “It's not like she's my biological family. But I couldn't let her die any more I could let Abby or Ziva.”

“You better not be sleeping with them either,” Jethro muttered and sat back down, and Tony laughed in relief.


End file.
